


Limited Palette

by roswyrm



Series: Colour Wheels [3]
Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Ambiguous Slash, Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, M/M, Not Really Character Death, Possibly Pre-Slash, Time Travel, canon-typical dumbassery, cuddle puddle at the end bc its WHAT THEY DESERVE, like there are a lot of characters mentioned but i think those are the main ones???, zolf dies but he gets better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-24 14:00:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19174747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roswyrm/pseuds/roswyrm
Summary: "There are four questions of value in life... What is sacred? Of what is the spirit made? What is worth living for and what is worth dying for? The answer to each is the same. Only love."—Lord Byron





	Limited Palette

**Author's Note:**

> and so,,,,, this au comes to an end. zolf dies at the beginning but he's fine at the end so like. that's better than some of the shit i've written. anyway. Working Title: _sadboi hours_

“No,” Hamid sobs, “no, no no no, come on, you’re okay. You’re going to be okay!” Azu sets a hand on his shoulder, but Hamid shrugs her off. “You’re okay,” he says softly, “Azu’s going to heal you, and you’ll be okay, and we can– w-we can talk, alright? Or not talk, whatever you want, just– you’re going to be alright.” Hamid shouldn’t touch him directly, he knows that, but he still scrabbles at Zolf’s back and pulls him closer, dark grey staining the front of his shirt as it seeps from his friend’s wounds. “Heal him,” Hamid orders, but his voice comes out shuddering and strained from the heaving sobs he’s failing to hold back. Azu gives him a pitying look, and Hamid cuts across whatever apology she’s going to offer with, _“Heal him!”_ Zolf exhales deeply, breath rattling out of his chest.

Azu murmurs, “I can’t.” Hamid shouldn’t touch him directly, but he decides he doesn’t care and tucks his head into Zolf’s neck. The world stays precisely how it is, except that Hamid can see the brown of his hands beneath all of the grey blood.

One of Zolf’s hands comes up to hold the back of Hamid’s neck, and Hamid gives a little gasping cry as he realises that Zolf is trying to pull away. Hamid lets him go, but Zolf just presses his fingers in further. “I’m useless,” he rasps, “can’t see… it’s gone.” Hamid clings to him. He isn’t useless, he’s brilliant, and Hamid won’t hear anything otherwise. The robots are in greyscale, colour leaching out of them as the seed twists them into emissaries of complacency. It has to be wishful thinking and the blur of tears that makes it seem like Zolf’s eyes are a washed-out green. It has to be. “Hi,” Zolf chokes out, grey trickling out of his mouth, staining his lips as they curve up in a pained smile, “you… you’re here.”

Hamid hugs him tighter. “I’m here,” he says, and his chest is growing too-warm and sticky with Zolf’s blood, “it’s okay, Zolf. I’m here.”

—————

Azu grabs him by the back of his neck like he’s an insolent kitten and pulls him into the air. “You can’t keep fighting like this, Hamid,” she says, soft but commanding, “you’re the best spellcaster we have.” Hamid doesn’t kick at her like Grizzop would, like Grizzop did, before he.

Well.

“I’m well aware,” he hisses, “and that’s _why_ I need to—”

“You miss them,” Azu says, and it makes Hamid tense up. Of course, Hamid misses them. He misses Sasha’s terrible quips and Grizzop’s squeaking, and he didn’t _trust_ Grizzop completely, but he was important. And Sasha was the constant, always there, since the very beginning, odd and scary sometimes and so irrepressibly _herself_ that sometimes Hamid finds himself snapping _‘who’s asking?’_ with such a ferocity that it feels like grime on the memory of her. She wasn’t angry, just defensive. Gods, Hamid misses her. “I know,” Azu continues as his ribs squeeze around his organs too-tightly and he feels the need to curl up into a ball and sob until he’s dehydrated, “I miss them too. But you need to stop self-sacrificing; we have to live on in their stead.” Hamid stares at the ground and slowly raises his gaze to meet Azu’s.

There’s nothing but heartbreak and hope behind her eyes, and Hamid needs to look away so that he doesn’t start crying in front of her again. “Put me down,” Hamid says, and there’s none of the spitfire energy that Grizzop used when Azu hoisted the two of them up in the temple, but the reminder is still there, echoing under his words and it _hurts._ Azu sets him down gently, and Hamid doesn’t say goodbye before stalking off to his own little corner of the building.

—————

Vesseek’s skin is a muddy green, and Hamid can’t look at them without seeing Grizzop. They’re shorter by a significant margin, and stockier than the paladin was, but the point remains.

Bi Ming Gusset’s hair is bright blue, but it doesn’t stick up haphazardly the way it did when Hamid first met him. The Gnome doesn’t meet his eyes. Hamid doesn’t blame him. 

(Zolf said that his and Sasha’s eyes were similar, once, when he got more drunk than he probably should have, grinning at the both of them. “Yours, though,” he said, leaning on Hamid, “yours catch the light more. Hers are always brownish black, but sometimes if the… huh. Like that.” He tapped the side of Hamid’s head like that made any sense, and Sasha hummed conversationally. “Like honey,” Zolf mumbled, and Sasha and Hamid shared a look as they helped him along. Sasha’s eyes were dark, even in the afternoon light, glinting like the head of a black-iron arrow.)

Hamid looks in the mirror, and his eyes are dull dark grey.

The way he usually saw Sasha’s.

(Tears never really welled up in Sasha’s eyes, though. Not where anyone could see. Of course, Hamid does most of his sobbing in private, now; he has things to do that don’t involve breaking down. He doesn’t sleep much, but he doesn’t get anyone else killed, either, so the shaky hands and blurry vision and bitter coffee is all worth it.)

—————

Ismail drags him and Ishaak out of Einstein’s fort to show them something etched into the taverna where the LOLOMG stayed when trying to rescue their hostages. Hamid stares and stares and stares because Sasha asked him to send a postcard, with a beautiful sparkling silver drawing of L’arc de Ordinateur on the front that he could only see when their hands brushed. The surrounding trees were too-green, and the ink Sasha used was a midnight blue. And that’s her handwriting. That’s her handwriting on the taverna wall, scraped in with a dagger, probably, ancient and eroded and _beautiful,_ if only because of what it says.

_Hamid/Azu — we’re alright, in ancient Rome. All of you that made it be in the Colosseum._

And then, the thing that Ismail was most excited about, the thing that makes Hamid’s dulled heart lift the smallest amount:

_We can fix the timelines._

—————

They sit in Einstein’s fort (the Colosseum, apparently, which Hamid maybe read about somewhere?) for the better part of a week before anything happens. Vesseek paces, their ears flicking like Grizzop’s did — like they _will,_ when Hamid sees him again — when he was working through a problem. Ishaak’s claws press against some of the thicker scales on Hamid’s hand, and they sit together, staring at their brassy hands and complementary sleeves. Orange and green.

Bi Ming sits with Einstein, rambling excitedly to one another about practical applications of teleporting in the fencing business. Azu sits nearby, occasionally halting her conversation with Emeka to point out, _no, that is very much illegal._ Ed nods solemnly like he has any idea what is going on. Hamid might laugh if he weren’t so anxious that he feels about to throw up.

And then there is _screaming._

They all lurch to their feet, and Grizzop _(Grizzop,_ safe and sound and breathing and _real_ and Hamid can feel tears slipping down his cheeks) tumbles through a red tear in the fabric of reality. And then a pale hand reaches through and grabs him by the back of his… whatever the hell it is he’s wearing, and Sasha pokes her head through. “Alright, lads,” she says, and Bi Ming is already leaping into the portal to hug her. “Come through here, eyes shut—” she shakes Grizzop a bit at this, and he grumbles— “and don’t let go.” Bi Ming grabs her hand and holds his other out to the group.

They don’t stand next to the same people they did two years ago, and Grizzop says, “We’ll be back in our younger bodies, too. Hope you’re not too attached to that scar.” Ishaak reaches a hand up to stroke the vivid marks across his left cheek, and then Hamid takes that hand in his own. Grizzop beams at him and his little brother’s touch means Hamid can see that his eyes are the same, still blood-red with impatience twinkling behind them.

“Close your eyes,” Sasha directs.

“Bye-bye!” Einstein calls.

And then the world around him is _twisting,_ non-euclidean and screaming and dark. Hamid squeezes tight to his brother and to Ed, and he thinks about _home._

—————

It’s odd, unlocking his old apartment. The name on the lease is his own, and he still pays rent, but he doesn’t feel like he lives here anymore. It feels like the life of a younger Hamid, of some child who thought he was a wizard with an exciting new job, instead of a sorcerer about to find his purpose and lose… well, just about everything else.

It took a long time to sort things out; coming back from the Hades-Plane was difficult the first time, but even more disconcerting the second time, back in the bodies they had six months ago, the Colosseum un-fortified and Einstein not there. Ishaak patted at his cheek, and the fingernail scratches he sustained from a dying robot aren’t there. “Sasha,” Hamid said calmly, “Grizzop. It’s good to see you again.” 

He managed to retain his composure for a full five seconds before Sasha knelt down and scooped him up into a sharp hug, and Hamid sobbed as the walls lit up with gilding that he couldn’t see without her face in his shoulder, and Grizzop and Azu piled on, and at least Hamid wasn’t the only one crying.

“Make yourselves at home,” Hamid directs with a half-smile, and he’s already planning the week-long break they’re going to take before saving this version of the world. Azu can stay in the guest room, and Sasha can sleep on the couch again, and if Grizzop wants, they can share Hamid’s bed or one of them can sleep in their bedrolls out in the living room. It’ll be relaxing, and they know what they’re fighting against and how to fight it, so they can afford a week of downtime.

None of his planning included the man who died in his arms. “Shit,” says Zolf, and Hamid nearly tears himself in two because he needs to see, he needs to know if Zolf is there, not grey and gory, but maybe if he doesn’t turn around then he won’t be faced with the horrible reminder of Zolf’s blood sticking to his skin. “Uh, sorry, I was– I figured you– doesn’t matter. Sorry, I can—” Hamid’s need for reassurance wins out, and he whirls, and Zolf is _there,_ alive and well and wearing a dark blue shirt that Hamid can see the colour of, and he’s already rushing to hold Zolf in his arms. “Oh,” Zolf says, shocked, but his arms still wrap around Hamid, “I-I– hi, Hamid.” Another hand sets on Hamid’s shoulder, and Sasha rests her head on top of Hamid’s, and Hamid isn’t going to cry, he’s not going to cry, he’s not— “Alright, Sasha,” Zolf says, and Hamid can hear the faint smile in his voice, and oh, yep, Hamid’s crying.

—————

“You’re an idiot,” Zolf informs him as he bandages up Hamid’s side, “you’re an idiot, and you’re going to get yourself killed.”

Hamid takes the hand that Zolf is using in both of his own, and Zolf stops. “I know what I’m doing, Zolf,” he says softly, and Zolf grumbles before yanking his hand back. “I think you forget, I’ve lived this before.” Zolf finishes wrapping the bandages, but instead of putting the remaining roll in the medical kit, he looks up at Hamid quizzically.

Zolf’s voice isn’t soft, but it’s still damn near inaudible when he asks, “It was different when you lived it, wasn’t it?” Hamid bites his tongue and stands up, magicking his shirt back on. “Answer me,” Zolf says, and Hamid _can’t._ He smiles gratefully as a makeshift thank-you for the bandaging, and he’s about walk away, but Zolf puts a hand on his arm. “When you lived it, Sasha died. Right? I’ve seen you staring at her like you’ve seen a ghost.” Hamid swallows.

(Zolf is close enough that Hamid can see his eyes, and he scrutinises them, almost on reflex. They’re the same brilliant green that Hamid noticed when they first met. Not washed out. Not greyscale. Not _robotic.)_

“Sasha was missing,” Hamid corrects, “we didn’t know where she was. We thought she died, but we were… she was alright.” 

Zolf looks at him, then, looks at him so hard that Hamid wants to tell him everything, all of it, from the metal seed that shrivelled once removed from its host to _‘please, Azu, please I can’t lose him like this, I can’t, you have to, please,’_ and all the things that made Hamid think of him when he wasn’t there. “Be careful,” Zolf says. “I don’t… I know I’m not your boss anymore, and I’m not responsible for you, but, still. You’re important to me, and I don’t want you dying.” Hamid bites his tongue again, but he can feel the too-familiar sting of tears and Zolf tenses. “Uh, I don’t– are you alright?” Hamid smiles again, but that just makes the tears start falling, and Zolf awkwardly steps forward to hug him. Hamid needs to hold one hand to his own abdomen to reassure himself that there’s no blood, even as he presses his tear-streaked face into Zolf’s chest.

—————

Grizzop grabs his hand. Hamid turns to look up at him, but Grizzop keeps looking straight ahead. “You keep looking at me and being worried,” he explains, scratchy but pitched low so that only Hamid can hear. Azu, Sasha, Zolf and Ed seem occupied around them, laughing (or trying very hard not to) around the campfire. Grizzop stares into the fire and mumbles, “Sasha an’ I introduced an Egyptian tourist to a certain scaly someone back in Rome, so you’re welcome for that.” Hamid huffs, a smile curling at his lips, and Grizzop squeezes his hand. “Also, we missed you. And Azu, and Vesseek and Bi Ming and the rest of them, but… also you.” Hamid squeezes his hand back.

(Sasha’s eyes are blackish brown in the firelight.)

—————

Sasha sighs and leans back, pillowing herself somehow against the chimneys and shingles like she’s just another gargoyle, carved out of stone and made to look self-satisfied. “Didya hear about me and Grizzop and Azu?” Sasha asks. Hamid scoots back, just a bit further away from the ledge. “We’re soulmates,” she says into the silence, like the word is unfamiliar on her tongue.

It probably is, knowing her.

“Oh,” says Hamid. He can’t help but think of Liliana, of Gideon, of how Hamid tried so hard to keep himself close to both of them without touching them. Too scared of falling in love with someone he wasn’t made for. “A-and… all three of you? Together?” They _were_ made for each other, perfectly matched, the whole colour wheel laid out if Gideon ruffled his hair too soon after Liliana kissed his cheek. Hamid almost found comfort in greyscale, after that.

Sasha makes a noise that might be a laugh or might be something indignant. “I mean– not like that. Grizzop doesn’t… h-he’s not… he’s just not. And I’m maybe not either? Not the way Azu is, or you, or Zolf, but, like, maybe… maybe in my own sort of way. You know?” Hamid does not know. Hamid does not have any idea whatsoever what Sasha is talking about, but he thinks he can hear something like a kindred spirit in her words.

Hamid scoots further back still and lays his head on Sasha’s knee. She makes another sound, and Hamid’s almost sure it’s a little relaxed sigh. “I know,” Hamid answers softly. “And it doesn’t matter. As long as you’re happy, it doesn’t matter how.” Sasha is silent for a long moment, and then she sits up so suddenly that Hamid almost worries she’s been thrown off. But then a chin settles on top of his head and arms wrap around his shoulders, and the white neon lights below him flicker into shades of scarlet and crimson. Hamid smiles. “Rome made you affectionate,” he mumbles.

Sasha shrugs, and her shoulders go up and back down behind him, a steady black wall. “Grizzop’s like a weird baby when he can’t talk to people,” she says, and Hamid blinks at the absurdity of it. Sasha’s brain tends to move three steps ahead of what Hamid can reasonably comprehend, but they find a way to make it work between them. “All, like… all clingy, and stuff. Got used to it through that, I bet. I guess babies don’t swear as much though. I dunno if it’s Dutch or Goblin or what, but I learned a lot of swear words in _some_ language.” Hamid nods thoughtfully.

“Like a weird baby,” he repeats solemnly, because that is one _hell_ of a non-sequitur, and Sasha snorts.

—————

Azu sits with him, and they watch a sunset together, Hamid curled into her lap and Azu running her fingers through his hair. There are a lot of things Hamid wants to apologise for, but… it can wait. Everything can wait, he thinks. Just for a moment.

Purple filters through the sky as Grizzop sets a hand on his ankle, and red follows not far behind as Sasha leans on Azu’s shoulder and wraps an arm around his shoulders. Hamid sits up some, and the sky is _beautiful_ above him. The door to the hotel room creaks open behind him, but Hamid doesn’t turn to look. He stretches a hand above Azu’s shoulder and says, “Come watch the sunset with us, Zolf!”

The door closes, and Hamid is about to turn around and stare after Zolf through the door’s clear glass, but fingers interlace through his own.

After a long moment, Sasha asks, “D’you wanna see the rest of it, or just the blues and greens? Azu’s got orange and yellow, and it looks _cool_ with them.” Zolf laughs, soft, and he squeezes Hamid’s hand.

Hamid can feel brown like rich earth and like cobblestones under golden streetlights tumbling into his heart when Zolf just mumbles, “I like blue.” Hamid looks up at him, and Zolf is staring straight up, at the part of the sky that’s still plain. It’s darkening by the second, and Hamid watches Zolf watch the sky until the only light he has are the stars.

The world is ending, the world already ended two and a half years ago, but they managed to reset the clock.

Hamid figures they can rest for a sunset.

**Author's Note:**

> and now for alex to fucking DESTROY OUR HEARTS with s4. good god i am so worried. check me out on tumblr @roswyrm where im currently posting aesthetics for a fucking monster of a fic im writing. i dont wanna say too much. but the working title is The Worst Thing that bryn monroe has ever said, and also, there are warlocks. its great. i love you, thank you for reading this, don't forget to get eight hours of sleep and brush your teeth!!!!!!!


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